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About Plattsmouth weekly journal. (Plattsmouth, Neb.) 1881-1901 | View Entire Issue (June 16, 1892)
4- v XCf. 1. 1 i ' . - . 4 4 Ooi. iug funk vertaU . Anally ii t t i i i I f r (;. UNCLE DAN'S PUKSENT. The Eventful History of a Black Bilk Dreea. know he wi Jack's own uncle and when I wan Intro duccd a a h i nephew' wife, he took my hand gingerly, muttered Mime thing about a butterfly and refused to con gratulate my proud husband. That was directly after our marriage. I waa dressed then an prettily as my means would allow, for having used my own hard-earned money for my trousseau I thought I had a right to wear the pay tilings that Uncle Dan appeared to scorn. But the strongest material will wear out, and mine was no exception to the rule. Jack was unfortunate in busi ness and I was compelled to be so eco nomical that 1 could purchase only the plainest of dresses. As time went on things were worse; the family grew larger and our income smaller; we were forced sometimes to denv ourselves substantial food. Uncle Dan must hare known how reduced we were, and al though he was a wealthy man he never rendered us the 'slightest assist ance. On the contrary, he often helped us to eat our last loaf of bread. lint we did not expect anything from Uncle Dan while he lived. We knew that he loved to -hoard his irold. Yet the fact that we were his nearest kin. coupled with the one that he spent con siilcrable time at our humble home, led us to In-lieve that we would be the heirs to his vast wealth. One day Uncle Dan surprised me by asking if I would take a walk with liim. I consented. Then he took me to a dressmaker's, who. without any or ders from him at the time, cut to my measure a beautiful black silk dress. I submitted, carefully hiding the aston ishtnent that I felt, but when we left the house I questioned Uncle Dan as to his reasons for presenting me with so suitable a irift. "1 want vou to have one decent dress," he said, testily. and I expect you always to keep it- Do not part with it under any consider tion or I shall never again make you a present. Now eet through with the trying on and when the thing is done brink' it home and talk no more about it." 4 v.1 jfi a few days the dress was finished tb ? wa really very handsome. Had it Tome in happier times l snouia nave re joiced in its possession. As it was. Jack and I felt that it was incompati ble with our surroundings. Uncle Dan always in-i.-t?J on my wearing it Sun day afternoons when he was around, and thus I grew to hate the pretty thing with its abundance of frills and flounces. To our intense relief the old man one clay decided to take a trip to Europe for his health. No sooner had he made this startling announcement than I re solved to sell that dress the moment he had really gone. And I did dispose of it. realizing more for it than I had expected. In six months Uncle Dan returned more miserable than before and short ly afterward died suddenly at our house. Among his effects was found a will and we learned from this that he had tiequeathed all he possessed to a distant cousin, a person without a fam ily and one who already owned consid erable property. My husband and I were sadly disappointed. Jack was worn out from anxiety and overwork, and we counted on something that would at least pay for the board and lodging that Uncle Dan had taken at our expense. The latter declared that he had drawn up a later will in our fa vor, but as no other will could be found, even though a thorough search was in stituted, the property was turned over to a distant cousin. A few weeks later a lady called on me. At first I did not recognize her, but she proved to be the seamstress who had made that black dress. "Don't "l F-XI-KCT TOO TO ALWAYS KEEP IT. you remember the dress I made tor you?" she asked, excitedly. "Well, that later will is sewn up in the drapery, ne got me to do it for him and made me promise not to tell yon while he lived. He said If you cared anything about him you would never part with the only thing he ever gave you. If vou did, you would be the loser thereby!" Imagine my feelings! The dress had been sold to a dealer in second-hand clothing and was probably now beyond lay reach. I took the lady into my con fidence, bound her to secrecy and has tened to the shop in which I had left the silk dress. It had been sold and to whom the dealer could not remember. I had nothing to do bat to hope that the purchaser waa an honest person who would find the will and restore it to me. . liorrtincUy I now r t v Uncle Da a haa charged me not to part with the dress and how bitterly 1 f lented my disobedience. Month passed on, and though I eager ly examined every lack silk presented to my guze. 1 failed to come into con tact with the one for which I longed. In the meantime Jack's health had grown so poor that he was unable to do a stroke of work, and I was taking in plain sewing for our support. His eyes would fill with tears when he saw me thus engaged, and my cheery: "Never mind, we'll find that dress yet, dear," only half comforted him. After awhile I was employed to sew for a very wealthy lady, and great wai my astonishment on entering her room one day to find her wearing that iden tical black -ilk dress. I could not be mistaken; the trimming was unlike any other I had ever seen. I almost gave way to an exclamation of delight, but a sudden suspicion that perhaps the dressmaker had not spoken the truth checked me in time, and I decided that I would not be hasty. Why will we long for things, and when they are just within our grasp let them slip away be fore our very eyes? When I told Jack of my discovery he lautrhed. as a man will, and refused to believe I ha' seen the dress once my own. I was so sure of it that l re solved to have that dress in my hands on the following day. "Mrs. Barr," I said. timidly (she had appeared in a different I FELT AMONG THE PH A FEMES WILL. FOR THB costume), "would you mind showing me the silk dress you wore yesterday? I would like to examine the drapery." "I should be glad to do so, but I gave it to a friend who went away last eve ning to stay several months. It's pret ty, but it got too tight for me. Did you like itr "Yes do do you know where she has gone?" 1 asked, my heart beating faster every minute. "Oh, no, she's always traveling around from one place to another. She's a newspaper correspondent." When I saw her the next day she asked, with a slight hesitation: "How did the silk dress fit?" "The silk dress!" I repeated, in sur prise. Yc, dH not open the bag of rags that I sent last night? You see I found that my friend had forgotten after all to take the dress, and when I saw it still hanging in the closet l thought I would ask you to accept it. It would be so becoming and just about fit you." I heartily thanked Mrs. Barr, men tioned that I had not yet examined the contents of the bag, and when evening came hastened home to at last lay my hands on that valuable dress. But stern, unrelenting fate was still against me. Jack had innocently sold the bag of rags, silk dress in the bargain, to a passing ragman. He bitterly re proached himself for not having looked iato the bag before selling the contents. but reproaches were of no avail now, and all I could do was to look out for that ragman and identify him according to Jack's description: "Large, stout man, red beard and sunburnt face." The majority of junkmen seemed to be built on that plan, and I was several times greeted with such remarks as these: . "What yer starin at?" "Think yer'll know me agin?" "Say, what do yer take me for, missus?" Finally I was positive that I had the right man. I grew desperate and called him to the house. Jack was now failing so rapidly that the doctor had said onlj a change of air would save him, and I determined to make a great effort. 1 did not ask the man if he had the dress; I inquired what had become of it. Ha pretended to be ignorant of my mean ing, but I frightened him into confess ing that he bad give n it to his wife Then I demanded his address and im mediately went there. A woman with a dirty face, and still dirtier hands, ap peared in the doorway. I made known my errand. "Lor," said she, "it won't do much good now, even if J can find it. It was worn out long ago." "No matter how worn it is, I must see it," I cried. Startled by my vehemence, she hur ried away and soon returned with tha tattered remains of what was once my beautiful silk dress. I seized the thing and felt among the drapery for the missing wilL Yes, there was certainly something hard there, and I astonished the woman by paying her two dollars for the ragged dress. It did not take me long to go home and open my bundle by J ack's bedside. "My poor dear," I said, as I hurriedly ripped the drapery, "I have now some thing that will bring you health and happiness." But Jack could not rejoice with me until the will was actually in our bands. Then he closed his eyes, and I knew he was thanking God for His goodness. The distant relative quickly relin quished everything when he saw this later wilL Noble Jack offered him a generous share, bnt tne man politely refused it and went on his way. In sunny Florida Jack corroborated his physician's statement by regaining health and strength. To-day there exists no happier, stronger man than my husband. By the way, he wanted to keep the black silk dress as a re minder of old times, hut I Insisted that it should be buried with all oar past cares and worries. S. Jsaais Piwiv m WAIT AND TRUST. aavtee to a Kestleea ad Yearning: Natara. Two women sat at two windows, on with a lxiok, the other looking, musing, out at the Wds of pansies which edged the graveled walk of the garden. Waking up from her brief fit of ab straction, the younger woman ex ;laimed, disconsolately: "I don't know anything that makes me feel more dis :ouragcd, as well as discontented, than to meditate upon the foolish things I Jid yesterday!" "Hut if yesterday's folly makes to day's wisdom?" suggested the woman at the other window. "I don't believe it!" rushed on the first speaker. "When I rememlier how stupid I was yesterday, it seems hope less to try to be wiser to-day. When I reflect upon the absurd blunders I made in past years, I feel sure I will continu ally fall in the same pit. When I re call how weakly I acted at various times. I despair ever acting with strength. Sometimes I imagine I shall grow worse instead of better. Before, when I acted foolishly, I felt confident I was wise. To-day, no matter how wise I try to be, I am sure I am fool ish!" "My dear," said the older woman, with a smile, half protesting, half hesi tating," "don't you know " "Oh, yes; I know!" the other cried. "You are going to tell me it is good to 'know one's self.' But I think the more I learn of myself, the more dissatisfied I become with my study and its results. This striving and longing to see our selves as others see us tends only to promote self-deception. It fosters self- sufficiency and creates selfishness, pure and simple. It makes self the center, the pivot around which all the rest of the world revolves. I became con vinced of that long ago. And if it is so unprofitable to study one's outward man, or woman, how much worse a creature must be developed from the heart which is forever studying its own motives, scrutinizing its own feelings, using a microscope to pick to pieces its own emotions! Such self-analysis be comes degrading! I believe it destroys every spontaneous, honest feeling one can have!" The older woman laid down her book, and looked, still smiling, at the speaker. The younger sat with her hands fold ed idly in her lap. She looked far across the pansy beds. She looked across the hedge which divided the garden from the road, across the birches which lined the road and bordered the river, across the river itself, to where the low hills reached the sky upon the other side. Sometimes I think," she said, low and passionately, "that it is all a wil derness and aU dark. We fall so cruelly, and never can fully right ourselves. We make such pitiful, such terrible mistakes, and, with our hardest efforts, we never can altogether rectify them. We spend our best years on such childish toys, and when we see the true worth of the things we have despised, behold! the time to obtain them has gone by. What is the meaning of it all?. What is the meaning?" She caught her breath, and there was a moment's silence. "Dear," said the older woman, and her voice shook a little, "You have not gone all the way yet. Wait. You can not see why the road given you was the safest until you have traveled to its end. You can not read the word until you have got all its parts. It is not so long, dear. Wait. Wait a little longer." And the advice, of its kind, was good. But then, who takes advice? Not youth, which is the season of tempest, of strain, of great extremes, To learn of experience is to acquire knowledge by discipline, and to conquer in the struggle with ourselves, We must await and trust. Harper's Bazar. HOW DUST GETS IN. The Simple Explanation of a Fact Often Observed. When the air around us becomes con densed shrinks into a smaller volume it becomes heavier, puts greater pressure oh the surface of the mercury, and makes it ascend in the tube; then the mercury is said to rise. When the air expands swells into a larger vol ume it becomes .lighter, the pressure on the mercury is less, the mercury sinks in the tube, and the barometer is said to fall. Therefore, every change of height of the quicksilver which we observe is a sign and measure of a change in the volume of air around us. Further, this change in volume tells no less uppon the air inside our cases and cupboards. When the barometer falls, the air around expands into a. larger volume, and the air inside the cupboard also expands and forces itself out at every minute crevice. When the barometer rises again the air inside the cupboard, as well as outside, condenses and shrinks, and air is forced back into the cupboard to equalize the pressure; and. along with the air, in goes the dust. The smaller the crevice the stronger the jet of air, the farther goes the dirt. Wit ness the dirt-tracks so often seen in imperfectly-framed engravings or photo graphs. Remember, ladies and gentle men, whenever you see the barometer rising, that an additional charge of dust is entering your cupboards and drawers. T. Pridgin Teale, in Popular Science Monthly. A Contract Unfulfilled. "Look here," said the adviser to the publisher, "you contracted to put my advertisement next to pure reading matter." "Yes, sir, and I did so. Here it is, in the column adjoining a love story a French love story, too." "Well, my dear sir, I hope you don't call a French love story pure reading matter." Jury. , Mistake. Police Justice (after passing sentence on a cheeky prisoner) Did I hear you call me an old fool? Prisoner No, yer honor leastways I didn't intend you to. N. Y. Herald. V . I Far From It. BoseA-Does Mr. Verydull know thin? ny- LillianX-Kw anything! He THE STOUT WOMAN. he Was lrtermlned to Maintain H nights. The wind blew and the rain felL When the stout lady first became no ticeable by reason of her manifest trials she was only a few step from the center of the street, struggling bravely in the direction of the nearer curb. In one hand she held an umbrella, a Ihix of candy and a paper pail of oys ters. With the other she clutched her skirts. There was an expression of un mixed apprehension on her face. "Can't I assist 3'ou, madam?" gently inquired the small man in a rubber coat, who had madly rushed to the rescue. "Nope." A gust of wind struck the umbrella amidships. It careened forcibly against the woman's hat and the latter was knocked forward upon her nose. Sim ultaneously the candy-box displayed a marked disposition to slip away from all restraint. "Won't you let me hold j'our um brella? persisted the little man very solicitously. Nope." She was almost half way to the curb now and the oyster-pail seemed in clined to be rebellious and follow the example of the candy box. "But oyou're losing your packages, madam." The little man made a grand attempt to save the day and was as grandly re pulsed. "You are mistaken, sir. I am not losing my packages." The wind blew and the rain fell. The stout lady tossed her head and jerked the dislocated hat into place. With a deft movement she deposited the candy box under her arm and the bail of the oyster-pail between her teeth. At the same instant she seized the purse firm ly with her third and fourth fingers,de voting all the remaining faculties ex clusively to the umbrella. "No, sir; I am not losing my pack ages." The little man bowed and murmured helplessly. "I might remind you, sir," she said as she reached the curb and entered upon a general readjustment, "that the movement for the emancipation of wemen has been in progress for several centuries, and I am not one, I assure you. to abrogate thus lightly the inde pendence gained at the expense of years of labor the most arduous. I con fess I was tempted to yield, but, thank Heaven, I did not." Half an hour later the little man was still there, staring at a rift in the clouds, as if wondering if it were going to rain all night. Detroit Tribune. DIDN'T NEED IT. A Man Impervious to the Wiles of the Book Agent. He was sitting on the platform at the railway station in a deep study, while two men stood near him watching. He sat thus for ten minutes, when a hus tling individual swooped down on him. "You are looking sad this morning," he said glibty. The sitter lifted his face wearily, but said nothing. "I've got something here that is just the thing you want," continued the hustler. "It is a little volume, price only twenty-five cents, on Love, Courtr ship and Marriage. It explains how maidens may become happy wives and bachelors happy husbands in a brief space of time. Also contains complete directions for declaring- inten tions, accepting vows and retaining af fections, both before and after mar riage." The man on the truck shook his head sadly. "It also," went on the hustler, "in eludes a treatise on the etiquette of marriage, describing the invitations. the dresses, the ceremony and the proper behavior of bride and groom. It also tells plainly how to begin court ing, the way to get over bashfulness, the way to write a love letter, the way to easily win a girl's consent, the way to pop the question, the way to accept or de cline an offer, the way to make yourself agreeable during an engagement and the way ycu should act and the things vou should do at a weddine-. J ins is just the book that has long been want ed. It speaks in plain, honest words " The man on the truck spoke. "I'm very sorry," he said in earnest tones, "that I must decline to purchase your book. But really l nave no use for it at present, as I am on the way to the penitentiary to serve a ten-year sen tence for compound bigamy. If you will call around " It was the hustler's turn now, and the way he made himself scarce beggars de scription. Detroit Free Press. A Matter of Size. "Is the captain of your base-ball team a very good player?" asked Dexter's father. "No, sir," replied Dexter; "but he said he wanted it, and as he's the biggest boy in school, he got it." Harper's Young People. Modern Cookinc- New Cook I'm told the missus wants things in th'high-toned, fashionable style. Sure, I'm afraid it won't suit, for it's only plain cookin' I've done. Old Cook It's aisy enough. Make iverything taste loike something. Judge. A Bad Break. Witherby "I made the mistake of my life this morning. I told my wife I didn't like her new gown." Plankington "What, was she angry?" Witherby "Oh, no. it wasn't that, but she wants another one." Cloak Review. Amherst college is now among the American colleges which authorize their students to appear in classical jrarb. The seniors of Amherst have just begun to wear the cap and black gown in chapeL "There is such a thing as carrying a joke too far," remarked Funnicus, af ter he had. visited a dozen newspaper offices, at all of which his joke had been declined, Yonkers Statesman, j RELIGIOUS MATTERS. THOU K NO WEST. We know not. but Thoo k no went All thlntt. Most O.kxI an l WUi! Th- Uibt is all about Tiiee, The minis sre in our eyei. Thy children love thin solace In hours of strain and utrifo. What we know not TLou kuuweat, OUcxlof all our life! Why sick ne dues and sorrows Hhoald dare to touch Thine own. Why loving hearts are breaking. And weak onessaJ and lone; Why those who cry for morning' Ars lost amid the nitcht, . We know not, but Thon knowest. And all Tbv ways are right. Why from the world that needs them Thon eall'st Thy bet away Thouh hosts liesir-Ke Tboe for them. And they are fain to stay. We ask, but find no anxwer, We can not understand. Bnt Thine is jx-rfi-rt knowledge. And our times are in Tby hand. From beat of stormy waters. From waves of rentlesu care. From tumult of frreat trouble And waste of wild despair; Our souls find ample refuge In faith as in an ark. We know not, but Thou knowewt. And light xbines through the riiirk. Marianne Faruingbam, in Christian World. AT DEATH'S DOOR. The Ietroj-er of Humanity Do Not Grlee for the !e:tl Soul. I had a frtevd at the west a rare friend. He was one of the first to wel come me to my new home. To fine personal appearance he added a gener tisity, kindness, and ardor of nature that made me love him like a brother. But I saw evil people gathering around him. They came up from the salxns and from the gambling hells. They plied him with a thousand arts. They seized upon his social nature, and he could not stand the charm. They drove him on the rocks, like a ship full winged, shivering on the breakers. I used to admonish him. I would say: "Now, I wish you would qiit these bad habits, and become a Christian." "Oh," he would reply, "I would like to; I would like to: but I have gone so far I don't think there is any way back." In his moments of repent ance he would go home and take his lit tle girl of eight years, and embrace her convulsively, and cover her with adorn ments, and strew around her pictures and toys, and everything that could make her happy; and then, as though hounded by an evil spirit, he would go out like a fool to the correction of the stocks. I was summoned to his death bed. I hastened. I entered the room. I found him, to my surprise, lying in full everj'-day dress on the top of the couch. I put out my hand. He grasped it excitedly, and said: "Sit down, Mr. Talmage, right there." .1 sat down. He said: T"Last night I saw my mother, who has been dead twen ty years, and she sat just where you sit now. It was no dream. I was wideawake. There was no delusion in the matter. I saw her just as plainly as I see you. Wife, I wish yofc would take these stiiiigsoff of me. There are strings spun all around my body. I wish you would take them off of me." I saw it was delirium. "Oh," replied the wife, "my dear, there is nothing there, there is nothing there." lie went on and said: "Just where you sit, Mr. Talmage, my mother sat. She said tome: 'Henry, I do wish you would do better.' I got out of bed, put my arms around her and said: 'Mother, I want to do better: I have been trying to do better. W'on't you help me to do better? j You used to help me.' No mistake about it, no delusion. I saw her the cap, and the apron, and the spectacles just as she used to look twenty years ago but I do wish you would take these strings away. They annoy me so. I can hardly talk. Won't you take them away!" I knelt drown and prayed. conscious of the fact that he did not realize what I was saying. I got up. I said: "Oood-by, good-by." Thatnijrht his soul went up to the God who gave it. Arrangements were made for the obsequies. Some said: "Don't brin;j him into the church, he was too disso lute." "Oh," I said, "bring him in. He was a good friend of mine while he was alive, and I shall stand by him now that he is dead. Bring him to the church." As I sat in the pulpit, and saw his body coming up through the aisle, I felt as if I could weep tears of blood. I told the people that day: "This man had his virtues, and a good many of them. He had his faults, and a good many of them. But if there is any man iirlhis audience who is without sin, let himcast the first stone at this coffin lid." On one side the pulpit sat the little child, rosy, sweet-faced, as beautiful as any little child that sat at your table this morning, I warrant you. She looked up wistfully, not knowing the full sorrows of an orphan child. Oh, her countenance haunts me to-day, like some sweet face looking upon me through a horrid dream. On the other side of the pulpit were the men who had destroyed him. There they sat, hard visaged, some of them pale from ex hausting disease, some of them flushed until it seemed as if the fires of iniquity flamed through the cheek and crackled the lips. They were the men who had done the work. 'They were the men who had bound him hand and foot. They had kindled the fires. They had poured the wormwood and gall info that o phan's cup. Did they weep? No. Did they sigh repentingly? No. Did thy say: "What a pity- that such ii brave man should be slain?" No, no; not one bloated hand was lifted to wipe a tear from a bloated heek. They sat and looked at the coffi& like vultures gazing at the carcass of a lamb whose heart they had ripped out! I cried in their ears as plainly as I could: "There is a God and a judgment day!" Did they tremble? Oh, no, no. They went back from the house of God, and that night, though their victim lay in Oak wood cemetery, I was told that they blasphemed, and they drank, and they gambled, and there was not one less customer in all the houses of iniquity.' This destroyed man was Samson in physical strength. bl Delilah sheared him, and the Philis f (m at evil companionship dug bis eyes out and threw him into the prison of evil habit. But in the hour of his death he rose up and took hold of the two pillared curses of God against drunkenness and uncleuiuiess, and threw himself forward, until upon hint and his companions there mine the thunders of eternu! catastrophe, Tul mage, in N. Y. Observer. ., NOT WITH GOD. Never Make the I-ord a Tarty to On r Per sonal Kninltlea. The story is told of a Scotch woman, who had a violent disagreement with her pastor, in which each held their ground with true Scotch persistence. The good woman, however, continued her regular attendance at Divine wor ship. The pastor ventured to express his gratification and surprise at her con duct, when she quietly remarked: "My quarrel is with you, not with the Lord." Church quarrels are always unfortu nate, but human nature Wing what it is, they are certain to happen. How for tunate it would lie, however, if they could all 1k conducted in the spirit shown by the old Scotch woman. Usu ally the exact reverse is the rule. When members of a church have been unablo to see eye to eye, and when neither side has hud enough of good sense or Christian grace to yield or to make some reasonable compromise, a very bitter feeling soon conies to prevail. The memliers on one side or the otherr sometimes on lxth sides, forget that, their quarrel is with each other, and proceed to quarrel with the Lord. They refuse to perform any of their duties to the church; they cease to attend public worship and the prayer meetings; they give up their pews or cancel their subscriptions, and refuse contri butions to missionary and benevo lent objects; they even absent them selves from the table of the Lord lie- cause they have a quarrel with some of His people. One could laugh at the ab surdity of such conduct if its wicked ness were not so gross. The idea that. a C hristian s obligations toward nis Lord are changed because he can not get on comfortably with his brethren! No- matter if he is right in the controversy, no matter if he has been unjustly treated, no matter if he has been deeply wronged, his conduct is still indefensi ble. The chances are that he is not. wholly in the right, for there are few quarrels in which either party is blame less, though one may be more blame worthy than the other. But no sort of treatment by his fellow Christians jus tifies a Christian in quarrelling with his Lord. He did not submit himself to Christ as his King only so long as oth ers are loyal to the same Master, bnt. for this life and the next. He has not. pledged obedience only on condition that others obey, but has pledged un conditional obedience to every command- of Christ. And this is how he keeps the pledge! It is evident that the ideas of mai;y Christians, regarding their relations to Christ on the one hand and their breth ren on the other, need a complete re construction. N. Y. Examiner. The Course or Trouble. It is common for us to regard wr troubles as coming from an unfcrtunRt combination of circumstances, or the ill-behavior of others, rather than to recognize them as sent of God, for our spiritual benefit. "As many as I love I reprove and chasten," was the mr sae of our Lord to the church a Laodi cea. The trouble we are maxle to know, . whatever the form in which they may come, are under God's control and are to fulfill His purposes. In them He re members our frame, and takes caie that. they shall Ik suited to His. purposes.. He may not answer prayer Tor the re moval of trouble as we desire, but lie will undoubtedly give us grace to bear it, Paul's thorn in the flesh was not taken away, but there was an assur ance richly fulfilled: "My grace is snfil cient for thee." Christian Inquirer. Make Some One Happy When too low spirited to lie cheerful" yourself, do something to make some body else cheerful and happy. You f won't feel any the worse, and may b you will feel better. Says Kuskin. "You will find the mere resolve, the honest desire to help other people will, in the quickest and most delicate way,i improve yourself. Ham's Horn. CHOICE SELECTIONS. Faith makes the Christian. Life proves the Christian. Trial tests the Christian. Death crowns the Chrifctian- N. Y. Observer. It is a thousand times better to fall, in trying to do something for God than, it is to succeed in trying to do Home- -thing for ourselves alone. Ham's Horn. I have lived to see every one of my most cherished hopes one after another J disappointed, and to see that it was bet ter so. Alexander Mackay, of Uganda. The lot which God provides, the trouble which He pities, the soul that he loves and visits, can not be beneath our patience and reverence. Marti neau. Let not one of your talents rust iti want of use. If you have but one do not bury it; let it be said of you: "Sb hath done what she could." Chicaga Standard. Do you fear? Is the coming of tha hour of trial regarded with dread? Does it seem impossible for you to stand in your place against the strong forces of evil? Now open atrain and read: "Thy right hand shall hold me'- United Presbyterian. " ' Theories in religion have a beauty of their own, but if they result in no warmth of Christian life, it is the beau ty of hornblende and feldspar. Do not- call such coldness and hardness elig-ion. The river of life never freezes over. Icicleu never hang on the eaves of Heav en. Talmage, in N. Observer. Christians often preach to the Al mighty under the forms of praver.. They inform Him, catechize Him, direct him, exhort hfm and sometimes even- scold Himi This is not prayer it is sacrilege. If 3-ou want anything, pray for it. If you don't want anything1, then thank God. Do it simply. Do it heartily. A mechanical prayer what could be more abominable ? t. T-.j BepubUo. n I- - V V t7ill buy 21 (ound of cigar clippings mi It fea I2t 4T 11EIUCAX FlUlasia.a . J" - ... y ; ;