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•T BATDUX A MeBOBfAUk 'WKSSINGTON SPRINGS. D.TL 1 PHAETON. Before Oopernieufc and others proved The Sun stood still, and't was the Earth that moved, Phoebus Apollo, as all freshmen know, Was the Sun's coachman. This was long ago. Across the sky from east to west all day He drove, but took no passengers or pay. A splendid team it was and there was none But he eould drive this chariot of the Sun. The world was safe so long as in bis hand He held the reins and kept supreme command. But Phoebus had a wild, conceited son, A raBh and lively youth, named Phaeton, Who used to watch his father mount his car And whirl through space like a great shooting* star And thought what fun 't would be, could be contrive Some dav to mount the car and take a drivel The mischief of it was, Apollo loved The boy so well that once his heart was moved To promise him whatever he might ask. He never thought how hard would be the task To keep his word. 60. one day, Phaeton Said to his sire "I'd like to drive your Sun— That is, myself—dear sir, excuse the pun Twelve hours through space. You know you promised once Whatever I might ask." "I was a dunce," Apollo said. "My foolish love for you, t*g I fear, my son, that I shall sadly rue. Lend you my chariot? No —I really can't Is n't there something else ttiat I can grant Instead of this? A serious thing't would be To have my horse6 run away, you see. You might bring ruin on the eart and sky, And I'm responsible, you know—yes, I. Try something else. Here's a great wheel of light, The moon—a bicycle—almost as bright As my sun-chariot. Get astride of this, And move your legs, and you'll enjoy a bliss Of motion through the clouds almost as great As if you rode like me in royal state. No. my dear boy—why, can't you understand? I dare not trust you with my four-in-hand." "I have no taste for bicycles," the boy Replied. "That thing is but an idle toy. My genius is for horses, and I long To try my hand at yours. They're not so strong But I can hold them. I know all their tricks. Father, you swore it by the Biver Styx— You know you did—and you are in a fix. You can't retract. Besides you needn't fear, You'll see I am a skillful charioteer. I've taken lessons of a man of worth— A iirst-rate driver down there on the earth." "I see," said Phoebus, "that I can go back Upon my promise. Well, thcn.clearthetrack!' So Phaeton leaped up and grasped the reins. His anxious father took a deal of pains To teach him how to hold them—how to keep The broad high way—how dangerous and steep It was and how to avoid the moon and stars, Keep clear of Jupiter, the Earth, and Mars— And dodge the asteroids and comets red Follow the zodiac turnpike, straight ahead, Though clouds and thunder-storms should round him spread.. Alas! 't was all in vain. A little while— Two hours perhaps—his fortune seemed to smile When a huge meteor, whizzing through the sky, Alarmed the horses, who began to shy. And shake their flery manes then plunged and reared, And whirling him zigzag downward, till they neared The Earth. A conflagration spread below. And everything seemed burning up like tow In the Sun's flames. Then Jupiter looked down And saw the Earth, like toast, all turning brown. And threw a blazing thunder-bolt (but wait Here in parenthesis I'd like to state This may have been a telegram for then Lightning dispatches were not known to men, But only used by heathen gods) which struck The youth and by the greatest piece of luck Prevented further loss. This tale they told In olden times. If I might be so bold As to suggest an explanation here Of a phenomenon by no means clear, I'd say those spots upon the Sun's red face Were bruises that he got in that mad race. —C. P. Cranch, in St. Nicholas. THE EMBROIDERED FLOUNCE. Rosalie Drew was a very pretty girl with pink cheeks, blue eyes and golden hair and not having any faith in the truth of the old saying that "Beauty unadorned is adorned the most," she was fond of wearing bi'ight ribbons, pretty laces and fashionable hats. But ler father was a poor man and it was not often that she could indulge her taste in making a purchase and she never went shopping that she did not jebel against the poverty which made the best and costliest of everything im possible for her. It was this love for finery which led her to commit a crime which cost her very dearly. The summer Rosalie was fifteen, her father was induced to take charge of the house of a Mr. Spear, who, with his wife and daughter, was summoned to Europe very suddenly by the dangerous illness of a son who was studying art in the Royal Academy at Munich. The house was a very handsome one, with spacious grounds attached, and Rosalie was delighted at the idea of hav ing plenty of room at her disposal for lawn-tennis and croquet, and made all sorts of plans for the pleasure of herself and young friends. Mrs. Spear had had scarcely any time to prepare for her sudden depart ure, and so she had hurriedly stored in a large room in the basement of her house all those things which she did not wish to leave in Mrs. Drew's care. "Everything is in confusion in there," she said to Mrs. Drew, as she locked the door of the basement and put the key in her pocket, "but it can't be helped. I have no time to put anything away neatly." Now Rosalie had a large share of curiosity, and she often wished she could take a look into this room, for she had no doubt that Mrs. Spear had all sorts of pretty things in there that would well repay examination. It happened one day when her father and mother were out that while roaming in the garden she discovered a window which looked into this room, and which she found—on opening the shutters— was unfastened. She hesitated a mo ment, and then, thinking that surely a look into the room could do no one any harm, she raised the window. As Mrs. Spear had said, everything was in great confusion. There were several boxes and half a dozen trunks, all full to overflowing of garments of every sort, and in one corner, on a large table, was a heap of brackets, busts and other ornaments, covered only with A sheet. Rosalie, catching sight of a black, beaded dolman, which she had often seen Louise Spear wear to church, was seized with a desire to examine it minutely, and though her conscience toid her she was doing wrong, she finally climbed through the window and en tered the room. How true it was that one wrong step leads to another! After examining the dolman, Rosalie looked at other things, and ended by taking everything out of one of the largest trunks. In doing so she came across a piece of embroidered white linen, a strip about three yards in length, which seemed to her the hand- someet thing of the sort she had ever seen. The pattern was novel and very elaborate, and it was worked in the most exquisite manner. Rosalie em broidered a little herself, but she had never even thought of attempting any thing like this. "I wonder if I could copy it," she murmured. "What harm would there be in my doing so? I think I will take it and try, ana I can put it back at any time." So, when at length she. left the room, she carried the piece of embroidery with her. She was very careful to shutdown the window but in her haste—for she heard her mother's voice in the kitchen, and feared discovery—she forgot to close the shutters. "The idea of Mrs. Spear going off and leaving the window of that basement room unlocked," said Mr. Drew that evening at supper. "I discovered this afternoon that the shutters were not even closed." "I hope you closed them at once," said Mrs. Drew. "Yes, and I nailed the window se curely down," was the answer. "I im agine it would take a burglar some time to get it open now." Rosalie had turned very pale at the first mention of the room, and now she found it impossible to eat the food she had taken on her plate, so great was her dismay. How was she ever to restore the embroidery to the trunk? And she had not the couraee to confess to her parents what she had done. She scarcely slept at all that night, and she wished with all her heart that she had never entered that basement room. But it seemed to her now that the only thing she could do was to keep the embroidery. She saw no way of restoring it to the trunk without letting her parents know of it, and this she felt she could not do. She thought she would not be able to endure their ex pressions of sorrow and surprise. And then it was not likely that Mrs. Spear would ever discover her loss. She put the embroidery away at the bottom of the bureau drawer, and there it lay for two years. Long before the expiration of that time, Mr. and Mrs. Spear and their two children had re turned and taken possession of their home again, but though Rosaile trem bled a little at first for fear the em broidery would be missed, she recovered her equanimity when she found that nothing had been said about it to her mother. On her seventeenth birthday Rosalie received from an aunt, who she had never seen, a present of fifty dollars and an invitation to pay her a visit. Of course Rosalie was overjoyed at the prospect of a change, ana began immediately to make preparations for her visit. "Oh, how I wish father was a little better off," she said to her mother as she packed her trunk. "I have only one really nice dress to my name, and all the others are almost shabby." "Try to forget your clothes, and enjoy yourself as much as you can," said her mother. "You will have a pleasant time, I know, if you will only make up your mind not to compare your appear ance with that of others in better cir cumstances. In packing her trunk, Rosalie took care to put in the embroidered flounce. She took it with her simply because she did not dare leave it at home, where, by some unfortunate chance, her mother might see it. A week after her arrival at her aunt's, Rosalie was invited to a large party. "I haven't a thing to wear," she said. "My best dress is my black silk, and that is not suitable." "A pretty white muslin would do," said her aunt. "All my muslins have been worn out of all freshness," said Rosalie. "Suppose you let me look over them," said Mrs. Arde. "1 am a famous hand at planning." Rosalie willingly threw open the door of her closet and put up the lid of her trunk, and dragged out the contents of both. In doing so, she inadvertently displaced to view the embroidered flounce. "How beautiful!" exclaimed Mrs. Arde. "Why, Rosalie, I wonder that you did not mention that you had this, it is just the thing to make up with a very queer piece of white muslin. And you can wear peach-colored or blue rib bons with it. Come put on your hat, and we will go shopping at once. I will make you a present of the dress. Rosalie felt very averse to using the embroidery, but she did not know what excuse to make for not doing so. And so she obediently put on her hat and went out with her aunt, who, after buy ing the materials for the dress, engaged a dressmaker to come to the house and make it up at once. As may be supposed, Rosalie took lit tle pride in her appearance the night of the party, for she could not forget what it was that made her look so well dressed. She was silent and subdued throughout the evening, and was very glad when the party was over, and she could take the dress off and put it out of her sight. "I will never wear it again," she thought. But a few days later when her aunt packed her trunk to go to the seashore for a week, the dress went in as a mat ter of course. "Just the thing for you to wear at the hotel hops," said Mrs. Arde, who was not to accompany her niece to the sea shore, but who had willingly consented to Rosalie's acceptance of an invitation from an old lady who had taken a fancy to the jroung girl's bright face and pleas ant manners. In spite of her resolution not to wear the dress again, Rosalie was obliged to put it on before she had been two days at the seashore, for she had nothing else to wear suitable for an evening enter tainment, and Mrs. Darling, the lady with whom she was staying, would not listen to her protestations of a prefer ence for a quiet evening at home. The hotel was crowded, and the ball room was thronged with young and old. Rosalie enjoyed at first looking at the various beautiful costumes ana study ing the many different faces about her bat she received a sudden shock when she discovered that some one was study ing her—or rather, her dress. She felt uncomfortable and ill at ease at once, and would have gone home im mediately had such a thing been possi ble! but she oould see nothing of Mr&. Darling, and was obliged to stand the scrutiny of the stranger—who was a young and elegantly dressed lady—as best die could. So long a time had passed since she had taken the flounce that she no longei feared discovery but any attention pud her dress always reminded her so un pleasantly of her sin that she was made utterly wretched. How much more was she when the young lady approaching her said, with a pleasant smile: "Will you excuse my speaking to yon without an introduction? My name is Eleanor Willoughby, and I am staying here for a few days with my mother. The reason I have taken the liberty o! .speaking to you is that I want to ask you if you are willing to let me know who embroidered the flounce on your dress? It is beautiful." Rosalie started and turned deadly pale. It was a full minute before she could control herself sufficiently to reply: "I am quite willing to tell you, but I am afraid you will not be able to get one like it—for I suppose that is your idea—for my aunt embroidered it." "Is that old lady with whom you came in your aunt?" "No, that is Mrs. Darling. My aunt, Mrs. Arde, lives in Brockton." "Could you tell me, then, who de signed the pattern?" "No, I do not know," answered Rosalie. After a few general remarks on'the warmth of the evening and the-ability of the musicians, Miss Willoughby moved away, and Rosalie was left to the misery of her own thoughts. She had .told her first falsehood! This knowledge oppressed her like a night mare. Oh, how bitterly she regretted ever having been so weak as to touch anything not her own! •she saw no more 'of Miss Willoughby during the rest of her stay at the sea shore, but a few days after her return to Brockton, her aunt came to her with the following note, which she had re ceived in the morning mail: MRS. AHDE: Pardon the liberty I take in addressing you but I desire very much to know where you obtained the pattern of the embroidered flounce worn by your niece at a hop given at this hotel a week ago. If you will reply to my inquiry I shall be very much indebted to you. Sincerely yours, "ELEANOR WILLOUGHBY." "NOW, what does this mean?" asked Mrs. Arde. "I can't understand it. Did you meet this Miss Willoughby?" "Yes, answered Rosalie, her heart beating almost to suffocation. "And did she ask you about the flounce?" "Yes, she seemed to admire it very much. I told her it had been given to me by my i#other. She misunderstood me in some way, it seems." After some further conversation on the subject, Mrs. Arde dispatch the fol lowing note to Miss Willoughby: "Your letter of inquiry reached me to-day, and in reply I would say that I never embroid ered anything in my life, and that you must have misunderstood my niece, who assures me that she told you that it was her mother who gave her the flounce. I am sorry that I can not tell you where you can find the pattern.'* Rosalie did not exactly like the lan guage of this letter, but she refrained from suggesting any change, for fear of exciting suspicion. And she comforted herself with the thought that of course the matter would now end. But she was mistaken. A week after her return home, when she and her mother and aunt—who had accompanied her home—were sitting to gether in the parlor, there came a ring at the door-bell, and to her horror ana surprise, Louise Spear and Eleanor Willoughby were shown in. Louise introduced Eleanor as an inti mate friend who was visiting her, and after a little conversation on general subjects, said: 'My principle object in calling to-day, Mrs. Drew, was to make some inquiries concerning apiece of embroidery which was lent to me nearly three years ago by Eleanor, who is an adept in all sorts of fancy work. She desired the pattern herself, and I thought it so beautiful that I asked her to let me copy it. But be fore I had had time to do so the tele gram came which took us all so suddenly to Europe, and in the hurry, anxiety and confusion consequent upon our de parture, I forgot to return the embroid ery to Eleanor. She wrote to me while I was in Germany, asking me about it but I could not tell her where I had packed it. And when I returned, and we put things to rights again, it could not be found. Now, Eleanor met your daughter at the seashore a few weeks ago, and saw to her surprise a similiar piece of embroidery on Rosalie's dress. Mrs. Arde wrote her that you had given it to your daughter, and I come to ask where you obtained the pattern, for in this way we may be able to trace Elean or's property." "There is some mistake here," said Mrs. Drew, "I do not embroider, and I never saw the embroidery you mention. Rosalie," turning to her daughter, "what does Miss Spear mean? Can you explain it?" Rosalie started to her feet her lips opened, and she essayed to speak but before she could utter a word, she fell insensible to the floor. When she recovered consciousness the visitors were gone, and only her mother and aunt were in the room. It needed but one glance at their sad, pained faces to tell her that they knew at last the crime of which she had been guilty. The embroidery was returned to Miss Willoughby but its restoration had no effect on Rosalie's spirits. From a bright, laughing girl, she became in one day a most unhappy woman. Her par ents never alluded to her sin but she knew that it was frequently in their thoughts, and that they felt her disgrace very keenly. It was years before she recovered from the shock of that terrible discovery, and though she lived to be an old woman, she never forgot that one weakness of her girlhood, and it embit tered many an otherwise happy hour.— Florence B. Hallowell. —It seems that St, Louis has one Mexican Consul, two Mexican ex changes, three Mexican papers and no Mexican trade. There is a disparity somewhere in thi? arrangement.—Si. Louis Post-Dispatch. —Mrs. Langtry has bought the man sion at 120 West Thirteenth street, New York, and will make her permanent residence there subject to occasional trips to Lamina.—if. Y. Herald. Jf OF GENERAL INTEREST. —A Denison (Tex.) man pawned a cork leg with a pawnbroker for anadr vance of twenty-five cents. —Deer in Florida are being slaugh tered so rapidly that it is believed they will become extinct in a few years. —It is said to be a habit in rural Germany to-day for men to comb their hair the first thing after they have sat down to table. —The name of Tussekiah Post-offic% Lunenburg County, Va., has been changed to "Nutbrush," with Lucy F. Hart as postmistress. —The mail rider who carries letters to and from the Cour d'Alene mines charges fifty cents each, and often has from forty to fifty. He takes the risk of being either scalped or frozen.—Chi cago Herald. —After a physician had tried in vain to dislodge two false teeth_ which a pottsville (Pa.) woman insisted had. lodged in her throat, she found the teeth in a drawer, where she had put them.—Pittsburgh Post. DV their sister, who recently died of diphtheria. —Troy (N. Y.) Times. —There are three thousand seven hun dred Chinamen in New York City, and quite a number of them attend Sunday school, where they go to learn the En glish language. Many more Chinamen are leaving the country for China than are coming here.—N. Y. Times. —Mono Lake, in Colorado,-was re cently swept from one end to the other by a tornado, which lashed the water and piled lathery foam upon the shore twenty feet high. In the mass of foam were thousands of dead ducks that had been dashed against the rocks.—Denver Tribune. —We are thinking of writing a greav temperance drama in four parts, as fol lows: Part I.—Admitted to the bar. Part II.—Hanging around the bar (same actors, Dut different scenery.) Part III.—Behind the bars.—Part IV.— Stranded (on the bar).—Burlington Free Press. —In certain countries in South Amer ica birds are kept to tend flocks as dogs are here. The bird generally used is the chana, an allied form to the horned screamers. It is extremely pugnacious, darting at dogs or other birds when they approach its charge, driving them away with loud cries and sturdy blows trom the beak and tail. —William Hycks, of Huntingdon, sold his little daughter, aged about twelve years, to a laborer at tne reform atory for the consideration of three drinks of whisky. The child, upon re fusing to accede to the inhuman trans action when called for by the purchaser, was mercilessly beaten by her' brutal and drunken father.—Philadelphia Press. —We met two of our friends from the country, both disabled, one with a black eye and the other with a lame back, and both attributed their mis fortunes to a dream. The first sprang upon an imaginary foe who was about to assail him, and ran the bed post into his eye, and the other poor fellow, tumbled over a chair trying to kill a snake.—New Boston (Tex.) Herald. —Matters must have come to a pretty pass in Boston, when the Herald talks out in this strain: "Between garroters on the streets and bald-headed old 'mashers' in the horse-cars making themselves diragreeable to ladies. Boston is nqt improving her reputation. A few straight shots or long sentences for the footpads, and a woman or two with spirit enough to grind the corns or slap the faees of the salacious old wretches, will help to restore good order and decency. —Navy and army officers enjoy much leisure which they frequently employ in the cultivation of the fine" arts. This privilege has often been noted half en viously by men less favored as to time. These persons will be more envious than ever when they hear about a young naval officer in Washington, who spends his spare hours in making fancy work. He is an adept at macrame lace and crazy quilts, and makes elaborate pieces for charity fairs, besides little gifts for his young lady friends.—In dianapolis Journal. —The Baltimore Sun says: "Woman is a luxury-loving and generous buyer, and it is to her demand for the beauti ful fabrics that the manufacturer, un der the new social conditions of the last two centuries, has looked with most confidence for his reward. This demand did not exist to anything like the same extent a hundred years ago, when woman, being regarded in the ordinary walks of life as a somewhat inferior creature, was restricted in her liberty, her expenditure and her discre tion as to a number of things, dress in included, aflecting her happiness." How She Tried to Propose. Handsome Young Smithers—Th6 weather is getting a little more pleasant. Antiqe Miss Blifkins—Yes it is just lovely now for wedding tours. H. Y. Smithers—By.the way, I un derstand that the Government is to pur sue a vigorous foreign policy. A. M. Blifkins—Indeed! I should think ypu would be more interested in domestic policies. Every young man should get a H- Y. Smithers—Yes, should get a position which would enable him to earn a living. A. M. Blifkins—Yes for himself and wi—— H. Y. Smithers—Ah, beg pardon I believe a big fire has broken out up street. I must run and see if any of my property is in 4«nger—Philadelphia fcyJIHW 5 hCK. Religious. I CLIMB TO REST. Still must I climb, if Iwouldrest: The bird soars upward to his nest The young leaf on the tree-top tuglk Cradles itself within the sky. The streams, that seem to hasten down, Keturn in clouds, the hills to crown The plant arises from her root. To rock aloft her flower and fruit. I can not in the valley stay: The great horizons stretch away! The very cliffs that wall me round Are ladders unto higher ground. To work—to rest—for each a time I toil, but I must also climb. What soul was ever quite at case Shut in by earthly boundaries? I am not glad till I have known Life that can lift me from my own. A loftier level must be won, A mightier strength to lean upon. 1 —The deep bass of the organ ceased suddenly in a church in Lewiston, Me., when a lady voice was heard by the whole congregation distinctly to declare: "I don't care one bit I do want a piano."—Boston Transcript. —Frank Bert, a fourteen-year old boy of Lynn, Mass., hung himself the other day because he coula find nothing to do to support himself and wlieve his par ents of the burden of his board and clothes. He was soon cut down.—Bos ton Herald. —Physicians declared that two chil dren of L. E. Grant Strang, of Amster dam, who were sufferingfrom diptheri3, caught the disease by playing with a doll, which had been handled And Heaven draws near as I ascend: The breeze invites, the stars befriend, All things are beckoning to the Best I climb to thee, my God, for rest. —Lucy Larcom, in Cottage Hearth. OVERCOMING. "No man can go back of his jaw," is a Slav proverb signifying that no man can conquer inherited qualities. How far transmitted traits creep through a family was shown by an odd incident which is stated to have occured during the Prince of Wales' visit to In dia. Among the guard drawn up to re ceive him in Calcutta, was a soldier who bore so startling a likeness to the Prince himself that the curiosity of his attendants was excited as to who he could be. It appeared, on inquiry, that both the soldier and his father had been born in India. His grandfather was a Hanoverian mechanic, who claimed and boasted of a distant connection with George II. Yet in this, his descendant, born and trained in the climatic influ ences of Asia, peculiarities of feature and of manner of the heir apparent to the British throne were reproduced as closely as if they had been twins. Nat ure has her whims sometimes of exact reproduction, but the germinal seed al ways proves to have been the same. A child with six fingers and six toes was born last summer in Germany of American parents. The mother was startled and annoyed at the physician's declaration that the deformity was he reditary but on writing home, learned for the lirst time the family secret, that this peculiarity had repeated itself once in every generation for two or three centuries. Natural features recurring in the widely branching members of a family invariably index some corresponding trait of a character—a fault to be over come, or a virtue which exaggerates it self into a vice. "Wherever the drooped lid of the Stuart. goes, a selfish soul walks after," was the essence of popu lar experience of that cold-blooded race. "Poor Jennie! she has worn out her life fighting the hung jaw of the Car lyles," said a friend of Jennie Welsh, long before her death made the tragedy of the house at Clieyne Walk open to the public. But we are all apt to forget that it is, after all, the Stuarts, and not their fol lowers, who are handicapped in the race of life by their sluggish blood and soul and that Carlyle's hung lip and ill-conditioned temper were a fiercer torture to himself than to his wife. The hardest fight awaiting any man is, as the Russians call it, to "go back of his jaw," to conquer the legacy of evil tendencies left him by his fathers. Every mother ought to be able to define to her boy this work which lies before him, and to show him where to begin. The harder the strug gle, the more charitable he will be to other boys whose task is heavier. But only God knows how much harder it is for bull-necked, heavy-jowled Ben to be patient, modest and sober, than for his thin, pale, low-voiced comrade. But God does know, and whatever man may do. He holds the reckoning just. He who overcomes his inherited bad qualities is a benefactor to those who come after. His children may inherit his resolution and power of resistance. Truly the words: "He that overcometh shall inherit all things," has an applica tion to this life as well as that which is to come. Struggle! If you overcome, the world will be better for your living. Struggle! No man lives for himselt alone "no man's influence ends with his own fam ily or frieuds or his own generation. Every one's triumph of good is an added treasure to the gold of good in the world. Struggle on! God will keep the account. You may not be able to see the result now. The llower and fruit do not ap pear when a good seed is planted. But right resolution and right endeavor will bring the beneficent harvest in the end. Therefore struggle on.—Youth's Com panion. The God of the Bible. The Scriptures bear the seal of their Divine origin in the character which they ascribe to God. The*conception of God which they present was not bor rowed from surrounding nations. Egypt did not give to Moses the idea of one God, the creator of all, holy and good, able and present to save. The prophets did not get their inspiration from the worshipers of Baal and Ash taroth. The evangelists of Christ did not proclaim simply the highest thought of their age, but a character which their age in its wisdom did not know. Paul did not take lessons of the philosophers u-n 9 before speaking on Mars Hill, but boldly asserted that he pro claimed to them a God unknown to them. No people had at any time risen to a conception of God that was in mor al attribute higher than man. The o-ods of the nations were but their defiled thoughts aiul passions, and had nothino 111 their character to bind the heart to them, or to promote purity,. or give the strength of confident hope. Pas sionate, vengeful and cruel, they in spired fear and required costly offerino-s and cruel sacrifices to appease their an ?u1' Zheii" worslliP was debasing, the thought of their presence a terror, or an inspiration to evil. Now the marvel is that, wlier. men were bowing to such gods, w)» try was the basest, there W: Wii°A- th? holiness delights in purity, who in jUs, tice must punish sin, and who yet loveg os with an overflowing love, and by the most marvelous saenfioe redeems ua from sin and gives us eternal life Moses stood far above the world's con ception when he made the revelation of "The Lord, the Lord God, merciful and gracious, long-suffering and abund&nti in goodness and truth, keeping mercy for thousands, forgiving iniquity, trans-' gression and sin, and that will by no means clear the guilty." The messa^ of Christ is the only Gospel the world has ever heard: "God so loved the world that He gave His only-begotten Son, that whosoever believetn in Him should not perish but have eternal1 life." This alone meets the need of man. and it meets it perfectly. With out one higher than ourselves, one purer and in every way better, one who is infinitely above our highest ideal, we would sink to lower depths. Without a righteousness acceptable to the in finitely just and holy one we would perish in our sins. Without the rev elation of the love of God, a love infinite in its greatness and tenderness, in its resources and its power, we could not. bow the heart before Him. With out the quickening power of His Spirit we could not be raised into the new and eternal life. But with this love re vealed to us in the Son of God we are drawn to Him, and by His Spirit are born-again to a life that can not die be cause it is the life God gives to us. It is near the close of the Scriptures that the declaration is made: "God is love." And it is not then announced as a new doctrine it is a summing up of all that had been revealed from the beginning of the world. Immediately after the fall there was a revelation of mercy. The covenant with Noah was one of grace. The covenant with Abra ham was in love. Moses was sent on a mission of mercy and covenant grace. So also in the revelation of God in the law, in the visions of the prophets, and in the heart utterances of the Psalms, there is everywhere the love of God. In' the coming of Christ this love reached its highest exhibition. Therefore it is that God, at the clos ing of the word of life, j^athers all the revelations and manifetitions of Him self into the declaration, "God is love." In Himself, in His purposes and His works, He is love.—United Presbyterian. Small Annoyances. How many people, patient and un complaining about important matters,, lapse into |uerulousness and discontent over small annoyances, and especially1 over that, most momentary of ail troubles, an unpleasant state of the weather. They have learned that clouds of trouble and affliction sooner or later lift to let the sunshine through lhat tears of sorrow sometimes nourish the loveliest heart-flowers that the, brightest days of a lifetime may follow right after the darkest but that, in the prosaic, material, every-day world, rain is ever necessary, or that a cloudy day may, and generally is, followed by a pleasant one, are facts they practically ignore. The storm that prevents a pro posed excursion is received almost as if it were an unjustifiable and impertinent: freak of nature, regardless of the fact, that it fills the stream that turns a hun dred mills, ana refreshes the roots of grasses that feed a thousand cattle. The city pedestrian who, finding the side walks slippery and troublesome, ex claims against the snow, does not stop to think, perhaps does not even know, how much easier work is done in the country for the presence of the snow. The farmer's teaming is far more readily accomplished on runners than on wheels, the lumberman can get out his logs with half the expense: most im portant of all, the roots of flowers and grasses are safe under the snow when they would freeze without its protection. And, after all the complaining, things go on just as they would without it and all the success the complainer secures—if it efcn be called success—is in manifesting a spirit of ingratitude to Him who makes seed-time and harvest, day and night, sunshine and storm.— S. S. Times. Wise Sayings. —God hath His working in thos9 things which man can not frustrate.— James Shirley. —Zeal is the combination of will, in tellect, afl'ections, passions and force, and their practical concentration upon the accomplishment of some object. —If we could read the secret history of our enemies we should find, in each man's life,-borrow and suffering enough to disarm all hostility.—Drift-Wood. Our best friend is in our Father's house on high. Our hearts and our treasures are there. Why should we not "look up and lift our heads" toward the land where we shall "see the King in His beauty," and meet the dear ones who are waiting our coming? Everything in life has aright and a wrong side. You may take any joy, and, by turning it around, find troubles, on the other side or you can take the greatest trouble, anil, bv turning it around, find joys on the" other side., ihe gloomiest mountain never casts a shadow on both sides at once. I find one occupation which is ever green, of which we shall never weary,! which is good for all seasons, beautiful at all times, a source of unvarying de-| light,which comes nearest to the Divine, and that is the act of doing good. This is the one pleasure which will surely in crease as life goes on.—Baptist Weekly. Truth will ever be unpalatable to those who are determined not to re linquish error, but can never give ollcnse to the honest and well-meaning tor the plain-dealing remonstrances of a iriena difler as widely from the ranoor ot an enemy, as the friendly probe of a pS11!?n,rrom t^c 1 0 to men the conception of one .,'as a spirit, almighty, holy, just and lovino- Word of His Power,' called all things into being, who in His 4 dagger of an assassin. —-o. IK Montague. —Nothing is more certain than that when Sunday is lost as a sacred day, it will be lost as a rest day, and then a oring men will find seven days of work equired with the same waces now given for six. It is easy to charge the jf'f.nc.s the sacred day with bigotry J1ar^ ^ess* yet they are the truest ti lends ot those who wore hard for a They honestly believe that !T ®uty both to God and to man bindsi them to stand fast against any invasion mil 8 ,day 83 grievous erron and wrong. —Intelligencer.